A Kiss Is Just A Kiss
by Cora Clavia
Summary: BB. How exactly did she approach the kiss, and what was she thinking? From Santa in the Slush.
1. Chapter 1

**A Kiss Is Just A Kiss**

**Summary:** I freaked when they kissed. And I can't just let that go without writing about it.  
**Rating: **T-ish at most.  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own Bones. Or its characters. Or anything else. And I would like to announce that there is _nothing_ shameful in watching "Santa in the Slush" multiple times. And rewinding to watch the kiss. More than once. We _all_ do it.

- - - - This is a brief tangent from Striped Socks; I just couldn't resist. More of that one to come soon, but meanwhile, let's stop to ponder that kiss again, shall we? - - - -

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Brennan never chewed gum.

Well, that wasn't entirely true. She used it in under-developed nations, where toothpaste wasn't always readily available and she didn't always have time to stop and brush her teeth. It wasn't optimal, but in those circumstances it worked perfectly well and she didn't mind at all.

But today she had stopped to pick up gum on her way to work, and she had stared blankly at the gum-and-candy aisle for a moment, blinded by the choices. Wintergreen? Spearmint? Peppermint? Cinnamint? Then again, should she go with some flavor other than mint? Maybe Strawberry Explosion? MelonBurst? Bubble-tastic?

At a loss for which to choose, Brennan then had to face the reality that she didn't know which one would be appropriate. And suddenly realized: this was the first time she had ever cared about how Booth was going to think she tasted.

**XXXXX**

She had really been hoping he wouldn't be so obtuse about it. Of course, Brennan had to admit, it was a bit of a shock to throw at a person. But Booth was as stubborn as she was. Maybe if he hadn't happened upon her just as she was hanging up the mistletoe, it wouldn't have been so awkward. But her clear, dispassionate, apologetic announcement was met with his typical goat-like hesitance. She groaned inwardly, trying to push him to see her side. This was a system of barter, used by civilizations for thousands of years as a form of currency, and it was actually much less perverted than some she had read about. But Booth balked, staring at her with half-believing sheepishness.

"So Caroline's feeling puckish."

It was a word she hadn't associated with the woman either, but as she came bustling into the office, Brennan thought maybe there was something to it after all.

**XXX**

As Caroline pushed him towards her, Brennan ignored the sudden flush of lightheadedness and decided to just get this over with. All in all, it was a very simple way to get what she wanted. Men and women had used sexuality for millennia to gain favors, if illicit ones, and it was a fact of society. Not that there was anything overtly, or even remotely, sexual here. It was simply two adults consenting to a slightly unusual request.

Meeting his eyes boldly, she tried to soften her face into a form of smile to set him at ease. When he still seemed skittish – he wasn't taking this seriously – she gave up and made physical contact, figuring as long as he held still for five seconds she could get her way.

Brennan was so focused on process that it took her a few moments to realize that he was actually kissing her. Her mind shot into sensory overload as she felt his lips against hers, warm and firm and tantalizing – a kiss so innocent, but that promised _so_ much more – but so wonderfully, deliciously forbidden.

Panic seized suddenly at her chest, and her lips parted involuntarily, instinctively trying to take in oxygen. It didn't work, seeing as his mouth was still on hers. Realizing that her hands were still tangled in the lapels of his coat, Brennan tried to calm down and let him go, hearing the soft pop as their lips parted. That one little noise was the proverbial straw. She couldn't look at him. She didn't want to think about what she might be tempted to do if she did. Hearing the slight stumble as he half-fell back, Brennan hoped desperately that he wasn't having the same trouble she was, trying to wipe the inexplicable, idiotic smile off her face. Her cheeks were warm, and she just couldn't look at him, so she folded her arms, unconsciously trying to straighten herself, and asked Caroline if that would suffice.

"Was that enough steamboats?"

Saying the word_steamboats_ was a terrible idea. All she heard herself say was_steam_, and she swore mentally as her imagination suddenly started to conjure up very vivid images of just how that could have ended up being a much more interesting situation. Especially if her office was a little more private. Those thoughts had no place in her tidy, well-ordered mind. It was as tidy and well-ordered as her desk – which her devilish side thought might be fun to sweep empty and use for much less scientific purposes –

Caroline said yes, and Brennan was shocked to hear a downright _puckish_ voice in the back of her own head: _But you could do better, couldn't you, Tempe?_

"It was like kissing my brother."

Even Brennan didn't believe herself. Judging from the noise as they parted, that had been a little too much suction for a mere family greeting.

The attorney seemed uncomfortable and beat a hasty retreat. Watching her go, Brennan was dismayed to feel her heart rate maintaining its hasty flutter, leaving her warm and a little uneasy, feeling as though there was something she wasn't in control of but should be. And Booth was standing beside her, much too close, close enough that if she really wanted to, she could easily persuade him to revisit the scene they had just created. Not that she would ever do such a thing, of course. She scowled inwardly at the stray thoughts that wouldn't leave her head.

"I'm sure she feels really foolish right now."

She needed Booth to leave. His continued presence was too much a reminder of the fact that she had been foolish enough to think that this would be easy. Instead, she was now warm and very uncomfortable and needed him to just _leave_ so she could regain her composure and erase the last three minutes from her memory and _dammit,_ if only she could stop blushing.

Thankfully, Booth seemed just as uncomfortable as her and excused himself with sentences that barely qualified as coherent. Brennan took the hint and silently thanked him for it. She sank into her desk chair as gracefully as possible, trying to sound normal as words spilled out of her lips, which were still warm from his, and thankfully he turned to go. She almost didn't hear him mumble those last few words, but she did, and she froze in shock, her cheeks burning as she realized there was no gum in her mouth anymore. _Oh my god _. . . Now she understood why exactly she just barely could taste a different type of coffee.

. . . _Angela never needs to know about this._

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO**

**Author's Note:** I know, there was no tongue, but seriously, I saw her throat moving or something. That wasn't just any old mistletoe kiss. And if any of you haven't seen the b-roll version – the one they _didn't_ show on TV – go to youtube right now and watch it (search for 'bones extended kiss'). Mmmmm.

I will return to Striped Socks, I swear! This plot bunny was just too tempting to ignore, especially since we're all experiencing Bones withdrawal.


	2. Chapter 2

Angela found out.

Brennan had figured it was probably just a matter of time, and sure enough, within an hour the artist marched in without knocking and stood in front of the desk, arms folded across her chest.

"Is it true?"

"What are you talking about?" Maybe if she presented a calm front and gave it no credence, Angela would assume it was just an unsubstantiated rumor. That seemed reasonable.

Unfortunately, Angela was very, very good at this. "You kissed him, didn't you?"

"Who?"

"Booth. You know – tall, handsome, wears skinny ties, always hangs around you like a lost puppy –"

"He does _not_ hang around like a puppy."

Angela sat, indicating that she had no intention of letting this go before she was finished. Brennan groaned internally. "But you kissed him."

It was no use trying to stall. Angela could smell fear. And deflection. "Yes."

"You have a _lot_ of explaining to do. How exactly did this happen? Why didn't you tell me?"

Brennan quickly explained Caroline's bizarre blackmailing. "There was no other way to make her agree."

"I can't believe I never thought of doing that," Angela sighed. "Blackmail is such a beautiful thing."

"It's illegal."

"Whatever." Angela wasn't going to get hung up on technicalities. "I want details."

"There's nothing else to tell," Brennan shrugged. "I kissed him, and I got what I wanted."

Angela grinned a little too evilly. "You 'got what you wanted?'"

"Caroline talked to the judge," she hastened to explain, flushing slightly as she understood Angela's implication.

"And I thought that meant tongue -"

"Angela!!"

"What?" Angela shrugged, then leaned forward conspiratorially. "So . . . is he a good kisser?"

Was he a good kisser? She had no idea how to respond truthfully to that. It had been a fairly innocent kiss, though she had felt herself panic at the end. But if there was any way to judge based on the sudden, tingly shimmer that had run down her spine, or the way she'd found herself sorely tempted to lean back in and try again –

"I don't know. It wasn't much of a kiss."

"Oh, that's not what I heard." Angela gave a cat-like smile, leaning back in her chair. "From what I hear, there was just a tiny bit too much tongue for 'just friends.' And you two were grinning like lovesick idiots afterwards."

Brennan chose not to respond to that. Because . . . it was all true. And she had no intention of affirming to Angela that Booth's tongue might have accidentally been in her mouth for just a second. She wasn't completely sure, but she knew her lips had parted involuntarily. "How did you even hear about this?"

"Hodgins saw the whole thing. And . . . he might have grabbed his phone and sent me a picture . . ."

Tempe sighed. "Don't you two actually have work to do here?" 

"Not when you and the Living Hotness Commercial are giving 'Days of Our Lives' screenings for free."

"Angela!!"

Angela sailed out, smiling serenely. Brennan sighed and covered her face with her hands. This was getting out of hand. She wanted to just move on, ignore the previous embarrassing episode with the stupid mistletoe that had been stuffed quickly into the trash, and forget it all happened.

XXX

Later she happened to walk by Angela's desk on her way to speak to Zack.

"Angela, take that off right now."

"Why?" Angela smiled. She had taken Hodgins' cell phone picture of the kiss, enlarged it and clarified the pixels, and it now graced the desktop of her computer, ringed with a border of vivid lilies and poinsettias, with curly script beneath it reading "Christmas Magic" on a banner carried by pudgy winged cherubs. Damn the fact that she was an artist and it had probably taken her all of three minutes.

"It's completely unprofessional."

"Oh, come on. No one's going to see it."

"Angela, please, just get rid of it -"

"- Tempe -" 

"- just keep it out of the workplace."

"Bones - what the hell?"

Her eyes went wide as she turned, too late to stop Booth from seeing Angela's computer. Dammit, she hadn't even realized he was here yet. He stared at her, a mixture of confusion, puzzlement, and embarrassment on his face. "Where did you get that?"

"A friend," Angela smiled sweetly. "Isn't it cute?"

"Well - it's not - I mean, it's not real -" he stumbled over his words, face turning pink.

"I told her how it happened," Brennan assured him.

"I think it's so sweet. You played tonsil hockey to bring Christmas to her family."

"Angela!!" they both hissed, Brennan's face as pink as Booth's. She was avoiding his eyes now. Angela smiled and sighed contentedly. Brennan could deny it all she wanted, but they wouldn't be so embarrassed about the whole thing if they hadn't really enjoyed it. A lot more than they wanted too.

"Y'know what, Bones, I think I'm gonna go - I, uh, have to get Parker -" she nodded, thankful that he was leaving so she could continue pretending the whole thing had never happened.

"Merry Christmas," Angela trilled after him. He just shook his head and walked away.

"Will you please take that picture down?"

"I will, sweetie." With a few clicks, Angela's desktop background changed from the garishly flowery kiss to a picture of Charlie Brown with his little Christmas tree. "Hey, have you decided? You still going to Peru?"

Was she? Brennan didn't know. Half an hour later, she was staring at her plane ticket, trying to figure out what to do. The dig was important . . . but there would be scientists there from seven countries. Her presence wasn't absolutely necessary.

Christmas in Peru, or Christmas with her family?

At the thought of family, her mind drifted back to earlier in the day, at the diner. Parker had pleaded with his father - he didn't want to go skiing - and Booth had assured him that it would be a wonderful vacation, but Parker wanted none of it. A child, who by all means should have pursued his own enjoyment, instead just wanted to stay with his father.

She stood, glanced one last time at her plane ticket, and within minutes she tossed it into her desk drawer before pulling out her keys and heading for her car. She had to hurry if she was going to get to the jail in good time.

XXX

As the tree out in the parking lot lit up, for the first time in years she could feel the sting of happy tears in her eyes. It was beautiful. As the little girls crowded around the window, shrieking with delight, she just stared at the little tree and the two figures beside it. Even at this distance, she could see the smile on Booth's face, which she knew must match her own. He was infuriating, and annoying, and stubborn, and this was one of the kindest things anyone had ever done for her.

"I love my gift, Booth."

"Merry Christmas, Bones."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Author's Note: Well, originally this was going to have been a one-shot, but now I'm thinking there'll probably be one more chapter. Anyway, thanks for reviewing, and I hope you've enjoyed it!


	3. Chapter 3

Happy Easter! – here's a little more Christmas story.

. . . if you found any logic in that, you beat me. Anyway.

* * *

Never in a million years would Temperance Brennan have thought she would choose to abandon work for a quiet family-type Christmas. But she had nixed Peru, gone to a jail, and was now sitting at home, the evening of Christmas Eve, wrapping the books she had gotten for Russ' little girls. Thankfully she was on very good terms with a number of local bookstores, and one of the managers had pointed her towards several children's books that looked promising, even this afternoon, after most people had long since bought, wrapped, and hidden their own gifts. Amy and the girls had invited her over for Christmas dinner tomorrow, once they realized she was still in town, and since she had started to enjoy their company so much, Tempe had accepted. Amy enjoyed the companionship of another adult, and Russ appreciated her making the effort to get close to the family.

As she smoothed silver-and-green paper over the cover of a beautifully illustrated volume of fairy tales, Tempe slowed, her hands folding the paper with unusual leisure as her mind began to wander. After the hectic events of the past few days she was beginning to let her mind relax, and unfortunately it took the opportunity to dash straight back to the one thing she didn't want to think about, but couldn't avoid.

But it had just been a farce! – she insisted to herself as she taped down the corners into crisp 45-degree angles. It had been a task to accomplish in order to achieve a goal, and she had done it with an admirable amount of professionalism. No, this was all Booth's fault. _She_ had been fine. He had to go and be his normal dense, obstinate self, making her stop and think, and that did nothing but make it difficult. This was simply an instance of being forced to work in circumstances that were less than ideal, with a partner who was less than ideal for the task at hand. All in all, she had comported herself well.

But as she set that book aside and reached for the other, her hand faltered for a moment. Comportment, her ass. Her face had been flaming and her lips had arranged themselves in an idiotic smile that had taken a surprising effort to erase. And that was to say nothing of the way her hands had been trembling and the adrenaline that had spilled into her bloodstream, leaving her abnormally alert and on edge for hours. Truth was, she had been physically affected by the event. Very much so. But he had been too, if the blush in his face and his sudden incoherence was any indication. On the one hand, that was comforting. She wasn't alone in that respect.

On the other hand, it was even more bad news. So Booth . . . might have enjoyed it. Physically. The rush of endorphins was normal, wasn't it? Of course it was. But she had seen, in the glance she'd been foolish enough to sneak as their lips broke apart, the stunned, boyish look that covered his face in confusion and made him look . . . so damn kissable that she'd half-wanted to try one more time. Just to see what would happen. A warm rush spilled through her chest just remembering, soft and comfortable, flowing giddily into her fingers and toes before she could tell it not to, and she sighed and took a sip of wine. This was bad.

Luckily, she reasoned, Booth would be occupied with his son and Christmas, so she would not have to see him for several days. This would give her ample time to calm down, remove herself from the situation, get some perspective, and decide exactly how she should address it. That was the best course of action.

As she ran the idea through her mind and opted to accept it, her phone rang, and she picked it up without bothering to look at the caller ID. Very few people had this number, so there were only a few people it could be. "Brennan."

"Hey, Bones."

She froze, as if by not moving, she could convince him that she wasn't there. How did he do that? She was thinking about him and he called. All it took was a few moments to stop and remember the sudden warm pressure of his lips on hers, the moment that had thrown her for a loop and ruffled her normal calm demeanor, and the phone rang. Did he have some sort of radio frequency that told him exactly when she didn't want him to contact her?

"Is something wrong?" She knew nothing was wrong. His voice lacked the business quality. He was taking enough time with his vowels that his consonants didn't sound so clipped. When they had a case, he didn't waste as much time on his vowels as he was doing now. But she was at a loss for what else to do, so she asked the question, glancing at the clock as she did. Almost 10 at night. Parker would be in bed by now. Which meant that Booth was alone, his son was asleep, and they could talk freely.

Dammit.

"No, no, nothing's wrong," he assured her, his voice warmer than usual. Maybe it was just the cell connection. She usually got pretty good reception at home. "I just wanted to see how everyone liked the Christmas tree."

The Christmas tree – she bit her lip, the warm trace in her veins immediately becoming a flood of warm mushiness. As the lights had lit up and she had seen the creativity of father and son, her chest had ached – like it was starting to do right now – and something, she had no idea what, had tugged at her mind with an almost painful sweetness. And after the little incident under the mistletoe, from which she was still reeling slightly, the ramifications of the Christmas tree were larger than she cared to tackle with any seriousness. So she had pushed it away for the time being.

But of course he was bringing it up now.

"It was wonderful," she finally answered, a smile creeping over her lips even as she groaned internally at her own weakness. How did he know exactly how to get her to talk? "The girls loved it."

"Good." His voice sounded like a smile. "Parker had fun helping put it together."

"I'm sure he did."

"You doing anything right now?"

"Not really. Do you need something?"

"Hm? Oh, no. But I did want to apologize about earlier."

"For what?"

"I wasn't being very mature when you kissed me. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

And there was another stop and freeze moment. He had gone and said the k word, the one she had been studiously avoiding, both mentally and verbally. Because if she didn't say it, then it didn't happen. But he had gone and said it, and her face went red even though he couldn't see it. Because she wasn't very used to having her colleagues' tongues in her mouth.

"It's all right. I didn't give you much warning."

"Yeah." He chuckled. "I gotta admit, I wasn't prepared for it."

"Neither was I," she confessed, a little more at ease. He seemed remarkably sanguine about the whole affair. Maybe he was more comfortable with it than she was, after all. "It was the only way –"

"I know." He seemed to understand her predicament, and her reaction. "It's okay, Bones. I'm not mad at you."

"I didn't think you were."

"It –" he paused, as if he had to stop and prepare his words. "It wasn't bad."

She let out a long, shuddering breath. "No, it wasn't."

"It was okay."

"Yes." Was he really saying - ?

"Bones, I –"

He broke off for a moment, and she realized that he wasn't sure what to say. His voice rang with mild frustration at himself, for not knowing how to continue the way he wanted. But he kept trying. And she was glad, for once, that he was taking control.

"- Look, Bones, I enjoyed it. And I thought maybe you might have enjoyed it too."

She closed her eyes, one hand unconsciously reaching up to pluck absently at her collar, before taking a deep breath. "I did. I mean, it didn't last long, but it was – it was nice."

The noise of a long exhalation reached her ear through the receiver, and in spite of herself she smiled. He seemed relieved. "It was nice."

"Yeah."

"This doesn't – bother you, does it? I don't mean to be unsensitive."

"Insensitive."

"Whatever."

"No, it's fine." Her lips simply would not stop smiling, and she finally gave up trying to tell them to. "I just never thought that I would kiss you under mistletoe in my office."

"You thought you'd kiss me somewhere else?"

"No –" he did _not_ need to know about the very odd, very unexpected dream that had visited her one night. It had begun strangely, the way dreams tended to, but from the visions of her co-workers carefully piecing together a life-sized puzzle of a skeleton on the lab table, which was covered in glitter and surrounded by daffodils, Booth had suddenly appeared and pressed his lips to hers, and she had woken startled with her face buried in a pillow.

"Bones, I'm just teasing you."

"Oh."

"So we can agree that it wasn't a bad experience?"

"No, it wasn't."

"Is it maybe one we can think about trying again?"

She sat very still, not moving a muscle, before quietly replying, "Maybe."

It wasn't a Yes, but he knew her well enough to understand that she would have told him No if she meant No.

* * *


	4. Chapter 4

**Epilogue, of sorts**

* * *

Christmas Day, noon. Brennan was due at Amy's in the afternoon and now had time to change clothes – she had stopped in the lab to check the results of one of the cultures, since she had some time – before picking up her presents for the girls and leaving again.

As she stooped to remove her boots, her phone rang. Her cheeks flushed, but she calmed as she glanced at the caller ID and saw that it was Amy. Not – someone else.

"Amy?"

"Hi, Tempe. Sorry, did I catch you at a bad time?"

"No, it's fine. Do you need something?"

"No, I just had a question. Russ had mentioned that you're good friends with the FBI agent who helped us out? And then did the Christmas tree for your dad?"

"Booth? Um – well, yes, we're friends." It wasn't the way she would describe it, exactly, but she was at a loss for a better way to explain their relationship. Work Partners Who Only Tongue Kiss When Blackmailed By A Prosecutor was just a touch wordy for the purposes of this conversation.

"Russ called this morning to talk to the girls, and he mentioned that Agent Booth's son was leaving today with his mother to go skiing, and he thought Agent Booth would be spending the day alone."

There was an expectant pause, which Brennan decided to fill with a response. "That's right."

"I know it's last minute, but do you know if he has other plans? I'd love him to come have dinner with us. The girls would love it, and he's just been so kind that it would be nice to do something for him."

Bren's cheeks flushed. Maybe she'd see him sooner that she thought. "I don't know if he has plans or not. I know he's in town, though."

"I know it's a lot to ask, but could you call him and ask if he'd like to come? I would, but I don't know him very well, and Russ said you two have worked together for a long time. Just tell him he'd be very welcome and the girls would love to see him, if he's available."

Something warm blossomed in her mind, and Bren smiled. "I'll ask."

"Great. Thank you so much, Tempe. Just let me know if he can come?"

"I'll call."

She was then faced with the delicious prospect of calling him, a day after they had decided that kissing each other was an enjoyable activity and one they might both like to try again.

Emotion was messy, but its very unpredictability made for entertainment. Kind of like contact sports.

"Booth."

"It's me."

"What's up?"

"Amy wanted to know if you have any plans for today."

There was a slight pause. "Well, not really."

"She'd like to invite you to dinner at her house."

"You're going too?"

"Yes."

"She doesn't know me that well."

"She knows what you've done for our family." Bren smiled to herself. He had done everything. "So she wants to do something for you."

"She doesn't know _everything_."

"Yes, she – " then she understood, and she flushed. "No, she doesn't know how Caroline blackmailed me."

"Would you rather she not find out about it for now?"

"I think that would be best."

"That's fine. When are you heading over?"

"Fairly soon."

"If I stop at your place, can I ride with you? I don't actually know where she lives."

The plan was acceptable, so she called Amy and said yes, Agent Booth will be happy to come to dinner. Amy headed to the cabinet for another plate and said nothing about the fact that Tempe and the FBI agent seemed very, very close.

* * *

After dinner that evening, they began the ride back to her place in comfortable silence. She reflected on the day with satisfaction: they had been unfailingly polite and friendly to each other, considering how unstable she had been emotionally to begin with. But Booth seemed to sense her unease and had proven to be everything that was gentlemanly and charming – a side of him she had started to enjoy a little more – and as a result, dinner had ended up being very pleasant.

"That was nice."

His remark brought her suddenly out of her mental replay of the past few hours. "It was."

"Amy's great. And she can really cook."

She nodded in agreement. Dinner really had been delicious.

Eventually they got back to her place, and she hesitated for a moment before pulling the keys from the ignition and asking if he wanted to come upstairs for a moment. She had his Christmas present, after all, and now was as promising a time as any to give it to him. He agreed, following her to her door without further comment.

After fishing through her closet for a moment, she returned to the living room and presented him a fairly large box. He was surprised.

"What is this, a toaster?"

"No. I didn't think you needed one."

"You didn't have to go all out, you know. I just used jumper cables to light up a Christmas tree. You didn't have to give me an aircraft carrier."

She rolled her eyes. "Would you just open it?"

With a suspicious look, he peeled off the paper and fumbled with the tape on the plain brown box for a moment, until she helpfully produced a pair of scissors. Once the tape was cut, he carefully folded back the box flaps and tissue paper. His eyes went wide, and he looked up at her in utter disbelief as a smile lit up his face.

"Is this real?"

"Yes. 1962."

"Oh, my God – I can't believe – how did you get this?"

"I called in a favor." It was a long, complicated story. She would elaborate later, if necessary. He looked content with that right now, judging by his expression as he pulled out the gold football helmet with the Steelmark on the side.

"How did you know?"

"You have a Steelers coffee cup on your desk."

"This is – this is _incredible_. I've never seen an original before," he murmured, tracing the side of the emblem with almost reverent care. "I can't believe you managed to get this."

"So you like it?"

"_Like_ it?" He stared at her, incredulous. "Bones, this is an incredible piece of sports history, and I don't want to even try to figure out who you had to call to get this. I love it. You – you're amazing. I could kiss you, right now."

"You could."

"That would be acceptable to Dr. Brennan?"

"Yes." Her eyes sparkled.

He grinned, carefully placing the helmet back in its box for safekeeping. "Since you gave me warning, I figure I should probably inform you ahead of time that I really do plan on kissing you?"

She tried to glare at him, but it didn't work. Booth immediately took the opportunity to pull her close and in seconds her eyes fell shut and his mouth was on hers. He was a damn good kisser. She remembered that. He was gentle but firm, and had her back against the pillows, and his hands on her arms were warm.

And he tasted like he'd been chewing gum.

**FINE**

* * *

**Author's Note:** I vaguely think that the year for the gold helmet is correct; I looked it up on the Steelers' website. Anyway, the idea is really just that she got him something really, really cool, and unique.

Thank you for all your wonderful reviews!


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